


you belong somewhere you feel free

by sierraadeux



Series: I Have My Freedom 'verse [2]
Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canada, Angst with a Happy Ending, Artist Phil Lester, Cowboy Dan, Established Relationship, Horseback Riding, Horses, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Mentions of Death, mostly metaphorical and not dnp, this is probably going to be a little sad
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-22
Updated: 2020-10-24
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:48:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27154054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sierraadeux/pseuds/sierraadeux
Summary: They didn't want it to go like this, but sometimes life takes the reins and leaves you with your hands tied. Dan feels stagnant, constantly reminded of how easy it would be to slip free if only their backs were pressed together and there wasn't an ocean between.They say that seasons change, but people don't. Dan's not entirely sure if he wants that proven true, or false.
Relationships: Dan Howell/Phil Lester
Series: I Have My Freedom 'verse [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1982024
Comments: 19
Kudos: 30





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> felt the need for some Free Therapy so here we go, dan pov follow up to ihmf: the yeehaw cowboy dan artist phil canada is an alternate universe au that absolutely no one asked for but i for some reason desperately still need to write  
> i will say i don't know where i'm taking you with this, and i may be editing tags and rating as i go, may not. i don't know if ill feel the need to write 40 thousand words or just a few hundred, we're all on the weird ride together, so please do buckle up and check your lap bar if you're staying on <3  
> oh and this will def make less than zero sense if you haven't read i have my freedom, lol

If Dan knows anything with total and complete certainty, it’s that all good things must come to an end. 

He reckons there’s an imbalance, a bias there. Where we mourn the loss of anything good so fiercely that celebrating the loss of the bad things barely even crosses our minds. It makes for the most uneven of playing fields, one where winning seems out of the cards all together. 

Bad things do end too, Dan supposes, but lately the world has favored taking his good. 

Mourning over celebration, he guesses. He knows someone who would proper hate that. Hate the way he lets the sadness settle so heavy on his shoulders, that even he can’t ignore how often he’s actively adjusting his posture on the back of a horse. 

Two someones, really. Three if you count his therapist, she’d probably be in on it too. That doesn’t make it any easier, doesn’t drop a line to his metaphorical stick in the mud, but he’s trying. Acknowledgement is the first step, or whatever. 

Dan just isn’t sure if he’s the stick, or the mud. 

It’s all so melodramatic when he steps back and takes stock of it. He wants to be allowed that. Needs it in a selfishly self destructive way, perhaps. 

Because maybe he’s just angry. Maybe he’s just simply tired. 

Maybe he feels stuck in an endless loop of losing the good things, and maybe stationary has always been his running away. 

He’d quite like to run. He’d quite like to feel the bravery that may entail. But instead he contemplates the logistics if that’s really bravery, or is it cowardice? 

And so he doesn’t do the running, he remains—wind absolutely ravaging his hair in the way he reckons life is so insistent on ravaging him. 

God. _So_ melodramatic. He hears his nan’s words in the breeze that whips past his ears, rolls his eyes because he hears the tacked on grumbling about his lack of headgear too. He really could be dressed better, the cold seeping in through his denim jacket, biting at the exposed skin of his knees. He just… didn’t care this morning. He just needed to _go_ , and now that he’s here he’s not quite sure what to do. 

Autumn is in full swing, Dan’s world awash in golden yellows, oranges, and reds. It always looks so fake, like a painting instead of the reality that’s right before his very eyes. That stings, stings like the crisp air that irritates his eyes and makes them water. 

Dan stops them just before the edge of the cliff, wiggling around to get his phone out of his jeans. He takes a few pictures of the small trees down below, capturing their color in a sad excuse for a copy. He knows an artist that would do so much more justice than his iPhone, and he sets them to send despite the lack of service. 

The freedom has never felt so confining, so… lonely. 

He sighs, deep and heavy and Cap feels it too. He lets out a little huff and his head bobs down, taking the opportunity to see if he can nose at the grass nearly buried under fallen leaves. Dan gives him his head, a few pats too, leaning forward to rest against his neck. For once, Dan doesn’t want the reins in his hands—just wants to let them go and hope someone else will take them for him. 

Cap doesn’t wander, he doesn’t steer them in any direction with the newfound freedom. He just stays put, noses at the grass, and looks over the range—flicking his ears at all the sounds that the ringing in Dan’s doesn’t allow him to pick up.

He remains the rock that keeps Dan from completely falling apart as sobs wrack through his body. Sometimes it’s everything and it’s all too much. And sometimes it’s okay for it to just be something so trivial and mundane that it feels stupid and humiliating to even be upset about it. 

But Cap doesn’t care either way, doesn’t judge him outwardly at least. Horses are good like that, and for a moment it makes him feel just that little bit better about preferring their company over people. 

It’s inevitable, the beauty of autumn ending in death. Because that’s what it is really, the vivid colors a reminder that even the leaves, too, die. Dan guesses that’s a ridiculous thing to be upset about. 

Dan sniffs, sits himself up with an absolutely undignified series of snotty noises. He presses the front of his soft tee shirt against his eyes until he can see a little clearer and it sits against his chest damp and cool. It makes him shiver with the wind, makes him feel a bit pathetic but so very alive. 

“Alright,” he says to himself, or his horse, shifting around in the saddle and gathering up the reins.

He twists the worn leather between his fingers, wishing it was this easy to straighten everything else out. And with a few more pats, a string of _‘good boy’_ s that Dan knows will go straight to Cap’s head—he hopes they do, he takes one last look over the mountains before clicking his tongue and steering them away. 

If Dan’s being honest, he really fucking misses Phil. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> think i might give each chapter a song because i'm me and i'm like that, i'm starting the [playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1Wan4TKGtYXVt3sqjHphAm?si=ZxxgB2h8SkWdttWTO_3hFg) off with Orville Peck's Summertime (because of course i am)


	2. Chapter 2

“Is that you or me?” Phil’s voice is tinny through the speakers, his mouth lagging behind his words. It’s slow going as he squints, getting closer to his laptop’s webcam as if staring into the little green dot will magically make their connection better. 

“I’m in the barn,” Dan fiddles with the blue cable coming out from his MacBook, “wired in.” 

Phil makes a soft, “Ahh,” noise and pulls away from the camera, his motions starting to become the smallest bit more fluid. “Must be me,” Phil says to the screen, then stretches up, looking over his laptop. Even in the shitty connection, his neck is so pale and long. His sunburn-turned the subtlest of tans seems to have faded completely, looking very much like the first time Dan saw him, instead of the last. 

“Maaaar, are you online right now?” 

Dan gulps, throat going a bit tight as he watches Phil’s Adam's apple bop and admittedly gets a little distracted by the way his jaw moves. 

There’s a distant, “Yeah!” called back. Dan can hear movement shuffling around from somewhere else in the small flat Phil’s sat on the sofa in. 

“Can you not be?” 

Dan tries so very hard to not snort at Phil’s tone. He doesn’t try as hard to wipe off the sickeningly fond smile that takes over his entire face though. It would be impossible, really. 

He shifts around in his desk chair while he tunes in and out of the faint protests and bickering between the two Lester brothers, pulling his denim jacket tighter around him as he waits for the office to heat up. The little space heater he clicked on a few minutes ago emits a low hum, something about the white noise paired with the two distant voices coming from his laptop make him feel soothed—a little sleepy as he lets his head fall to the side, cheek settling in the plush sherpa lining of his collar. 

He hasn’t been sleeping well, lately. 

Dan tunes back in when another figure pops into screen behind Phil, Martyn peering over Phil’s shoulder with a familiar squint. 

“Oh, hi Dan.” Martyn smiles, bright. “Yeah, I’ll pause my download,” he adds with a nudge at Phil’s shoulder.

Dan catches Phil’s quiet, “Thank you,” in response, though it goes mostly ignored as Martyn leans further over Phil’s shoulder to get closer to the screen. As if he somehow, also, thinks that getting closer to the computer actually brings him closer to Dan. 

He really wishes it worked that way. 

“How’ve you been?” Martyn asks, cheery to Dan’s wistful mood. 

“Alright,” Dan nods with a put-on smile, “you?” 

“Good, good.” Martyn stands up straight again, putting a hand on each of Phil’s shoulders. “Keen to get this one off my hands though,” he says with a laugh, jostling Phil around a bit with his grip. Phil is quick to shove him off, muttering something Dan can’t hear as Martyn backs off with his palms up. “I’ll leave you be,” he rolls his eyes, looking away from Phil to Dan, “nice chatting, Dan.” 

“Yeah, mate.” Dan lifts a hand to do a little salute, and with one more flick at Phil’s head there’s only one person on Dan’s screen. 

That fond smile returns as Phil messes with his hair in an attempt to get it back into place. It’s much shorter now, a recent haircut having Dan Googling: _how to wolf-whistle?_ and a fresh dye job that he’s still not entirely used to. 

Once again, the image of the person Dan first met at the beginning of summer smiles at him through the screen. 

“Hi,” Phil breathes, looking awfully breathless for a person sitting stationary on the couch. 

He feels it too, the way just looking at Phil takes the air from his lungs. 

“Hi,” Dan says, smiling when Phil starts to become more than five pixels. “Oh,” he huffs out a little laugh, voice incredibly soft, “there you are.” 

And there he is. All pursed pink lips and sharp cheekbones Dan knows are soft to the touch. Glasses slide down his nose, and Dan’s eyes flick to those perfectly arched brows that give everything away—the shade closer to his brother’s hair than his own. He didn’t quite get his quiff back into place, there’s one bit that’s sticking straight up, going against the crowd, and Dan nearly leans forward and reaches out to fix it. 

There. Not here. 

“Here I am,” Phil says, the corners of his eyes crinkling up. In one fell swoop he reaches up to push up his glasses with two fingers and continues on to run them through his hair, finally taming the outlier. 

Phil’s smile falters when he drops his hand, Dan catches the way his shoulders drop with a sigh. 

“Don’t say it,” Dan says before Phil can open his mouth. “I’m thinking it, and I know you’re going to say it, just-” Dan sighs, closing his eyes to stop them from welling with tears again. “Don’t.” 

_I wish you were here._ It’s ringing through his own head, he can hear it in Phil’s voice so clearly. They try not to dwell—because Dan will cry, making Phil cry, or vice versa. And there’s absolutely nothing productive about crying into his laptop, Dan tells himself. It’s a ridiculous thing to cry over, really. Phil is right there. 

“Me too, though,” Dan adds, sniffing and looking at Phil again. “Me too.” 

Phil smiles softly, eyes glassy even in their sub-par connection. “I know.” 

Dan stretches in his chair, breathing in as he wiggles his toes in his boots and a few joints click in that satisfying way. He rolls forward, propping an elbow on his desk and rests his chin in his hand, looking at Phil all sideways with a gentle smile. “Tell me about your day.” 

“It was rather boring,” Phil brushes him off. As if he doesn’t know Dan thinks hearing about every grain of sugar poured into his morning coffee is the most exciting story he’s ever been told.

_Me too_ , Dan thinks, _everything is boring without you_. 

“Any cereal drama this morning?” Dan asks instead, chuckling when Phil’s face starts to light up. 

“Oh, don’t get me started…” 

Dan, absolutely, gets him started. 

“I got your pictures!” Phil says excitedly, completely derailing from his retellings of boring paperwork and his afternoon of actually having to leave the flat. It’s a pretty transparent topic shift, but Dan lets him get away with it on account of the dazzling smile he’s flashing him. 

“Yeah? They went through?” Dan hadn’t checked, just noticed the time after coming in from his ride and zoomed through putting Cap out so he could run to his computer in the office. He spins his phone around on the desk a few times, its body showing significant wear and tear from his refusal to put an actual case and screen protector on it. “I think I should upgrade soon,” he lights up the screen, smiles at the hairline crack that crosses over Phil and Moon’s smiling faces, “camera’s not doing it justice.” 

His camera roll is filled with similar images. Phil’s freckles caught in the sun, photos of him smiling, laughing, pushing Dan away as he tries to kiss every spot on his face. Pictures of Phil on his ass in the mud after Dan warned him he wasn’t wearing appropriate shoes, Dan’s _I told you so_ ringing in his ears whenever he looks at them. A surprisingly equal split of landscapes, horses, and _Phil_ —Dan guesses he shouldn’t be surprised that the three often overlap, he just really likes taking pictures of Phil. 

And landscapes, and horses. 

But mostly Phil. 

Dan squints at Phil’s neutral expression, mourns the loss of freckles faded as he looks at him. Even though he has plenty of pictures he didn’t take of those broad shoulders sans cozy green hoodie covered in them, proof they haven’t all faded. Proof some will always remain. Just behind Phil's head, hung on the wall between art that isn’t Phil’s style and vinyl record sleeves of music Dan knows Phil has never listened to, is a similar piece to the one behind Dan’s own head. 

They’re similar in style, similar in the way the same hand pressed brush to canvas. A lanky guy with a familiar face and light hair pulling in the shortest fiery redhead Dan’s ever seen sits blurry and unfocused just to the left of Dan’s screen. Behind Dan—though he doesn’t have to turn his head to look at it, to know every single brush stroke in it—sits two lanky guys, kissed by summer with overgrown hair in their eyes, between one very patient horse. 

Dan can see love in both of them. In the art. In their expressions. He doesn’t quite know what to do about that without getting all choked up, so he tries very hard to not look at his own smaller reflection in the corner of his screen. 

“No camera would be as good as if I were there,” Phil says softly, bringing Dan back down to Earth only to give him a firm kick right back into space. 

Maybe he’s not the only one trying not to cry. 

“You’re not supposed to say it,” Dan brushes him off with a tug at the corner of his lip that doesn’t quite meet his eyes. 

“I know,” Phil says, frowning still. “Feels a bit like lying though.” 

Dan frowns. “Yeah, it does.” 

Phil sighs deeply, sliding further into the sofa cushions as he lets his laptop slide closer to him. Dan can’t help but let out a little huff of a chuckle as he watches the screen get overtaken with green, Phil so clearly—but not actually clear at all—wrapping his arms around the computer screen. 

“I’m giving you a squeeze,” Phil doesn’t need to explain. 

“I’m receiving the squeeze,” Dan says with his eyes shut tight. If he lets himself slip far enough, he can feel the ghost of Phil’s hands at his back, tight arms around his middle. He feels warm, just for that singular fleeting moment in which he lets himself daydream, and he knows it has nothing to do with the little space heater humming by his feet. 

“You really do need a new phone though.” Dan opens his eyes at Phil’s voice, the screen in front of him no longer filled with green. “Or at least let me send you a case,” Phil rambles on. “What do you want? I have purple? Red?” 

“No,” Dan shakes his head, “I like to have a little danger in my life.” 

Phil scrunches his nose. “You’re a little danger,” he says while bouncing his eyebrows. It would be funny if Dan weren’t so goddamn obsessed with him. 

“Ooo,” Dan lowers his voice to a whisper, “don’t talk sexy to me when I’m with the horses.” 

Phil immediately rolls his eyes, eliciting a honk of a laugh from Dan. 

“What is it?” Phil’s eyes move from the center of his screen to just a bit up and to the side. “Noon there? You’re not even _with_ the horses.” 

Dan sighs deeply, dramatically, and a wide smile tugs at his lips. 

“Get you a man who knows your horse feeding schedule.” 

“I’ll feed your-”

“Don’t. Stop it,” Dan cuts Phil off, though he doesn’t really need to on account of Phil’s loud laughter overtaking him. Dan’s cackles soon join in. 

He’s not sure how long they laugh for. The image of Phil on Dan’s screen shakes as his laptop gets tossed around on his stomach, then slides off when he falls over onto the sofa to clutch at his sides. Dan manages to roll himself all the way back to the wall behind his desk with the force of his laughter, and he pulls himself back flush against the wood as he thinks he hears Phil’s brother shout for him to cool it from the other room. 

Miraculously, Phil gets himself back upright, smiling as he wipes at the corners of his eyes. His cheeks are all pink, his hair a mess, and his chest still heaving from exertion. And Dan is so very much in love with him. Dan lets his own tears fall freely—his hands are probably a little gross and covered in horse anyway. 

“Do you want to see what I’m working on?” Phil asks, still a bit breathless and looking absolutely mad. 

Dan beams, pulls himself even closer. “Of course I do.” 

When Dan gets a call, they don’t mute each other or disconnect. Instead Dan ends up spinning around in his chair, hand over his mouth as he desperately tries to keep professional after watching Phil silently mime his every word and hand gesture while speaking to the client that called him. 

Sometimes Phil makes hours seem like minutes, and sometimes seconds feel like days. Dan reckons fucking with his internal body clock is worth it—it’s all worth it, he hopes. 

“Do you need to go?” Phil asks with a thoughtful expression once Dan hangs up the phone with an exasperated sigh. He shakes his head immediately. 

“No, no. I just need to sort out a few emails. I can do it later.” He bites at his bottom lip, tugging at skin chapped from the cold. “Unless you…” 

“I have a few things to do, actually, if you want to stay on?” Phil is quick to say. “We can, like, work together?” Pixelated blue is wide and pleading. Dan has half a mind to think that Phil may just need this as much as he does. 

“Oh. Yeah?” A soft smile takes over Dan’s face as he rolls closer to the desk and flicks his eyes between Phil’s. “That sounds nice.” 

“You sound-” 

“Oh shut it!” 

They could talk all night—or afternoon, depending on their differing points of view—and so they do. 

There’s often no talking at all, just the clickety clack of Dan’s typing, his mutterings of reminders under his breath, and the cute little noises Phil makes every now and then as he concentrates on what he’s working on. 

Dan occasionally disconnects, only to switch to his phone and make Phil a little motion sick as he carries him around the property, tending to the horses and racking up his mobile data charges. He really doesn’t have anything in him to care, not when Phil insists he stops and turns up his volume so he can personally greet each and every horse he brings in. 

Phil eventually goes mobile as well, puttering about Martyn’s kitchen with his phone precariously balanced on an overturned mug in a cupboard, boiling himself some pasta and heating up a jarred sauce after Dan talked him out of another night of delivery. 

It’s weird. Dan reckons it’s never not going to be weird. The sun in the middle of the sky beaming into the barn as he sweeps the floor—continuously picking his phone back up from where it’s perched on the wood of an occupied stall, a soft nose finding it incredibly fun to play with—whilst the window beside Phil is lit only by the city lights. 

Sometimes it feels like it isn’t even the same sun—that shines for Dan, but sleeps for Phil. Sometimes it makes everything feel all the more real, so much distance between them that even the sun has a hard time keeping up. 

And as much as it hurts, as much as he hates the way he’s unable to reach through the screen and wipe that bit of red sauce from the corner of Phil’s mouth, there’s something solidifying about the realization that he can still feel _this much_ about someone he isn’t able to touch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is accompanied by [Set fire to the third bar by Snow Patrol](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1Wan4TKGtYXVt3sqjHphAm?si=TAtqyL9BRpm2VBEM7urrGw)


End file.
